


This Mutual Craving

by Rinari7



Category: Barbelle (Web Series)
Genre: Brief Mention of that Scumbag Tommy, Character Study, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Arson, Post-Canon, S2 Finale Spoilers, post-s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23591695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinari7/pseuds/Rinari7
Summary: Veronica is hot mess. But Alice finds herself drawn in, not unlike moth to flame.
Relationships: Alice O'Hara/Veronica Vale
Kudos: 7





	This Mutual Craving

**Author's Note:**

> So I binged the series again last night and scribbled this all out this morning (like, 3 and 4 and 10 AM today), and I hope someone enjoys it besides my capricious muse. XD

It's probably something she should talk about with a therapist, if she still had one.

She probably should still have one, but it honestly felt way too much like those stupid reality show interviews and she just couldn't.

(Maybe she's not really ready to dissect it yet, anyways.)

Besides, Veronica is… better. Still Veronica, and Alice knows it's only a matter of time before her damage bubbles back up and erupts. But she's trying the sleep thing (when they're not staying up late panting into each others' mouths, slickened fingers working at the juncture of her thighs), and she's keeping up with her exercise (mostly, when Alice not-so-gently pushes her out of bed to run with her), and it's… fine. It's fine.

Domestic, even, maybe.

Veronica had been quite happy to bear the brunt of the media attention after that shithead Tommy's literal dumpster fire of an art show. Of course everyone suspected her of setting the fire, because — honestly, it would have been completely in-character. Veronica figured she could bear the brunt of suspicion better than some others among their party, so she did nothing to dissuade people of that assumption. It was… kind of heroic, actually. Alice hired a very good lawyer for her.

She hates taking care of Veronica. Feeling like she has to, and actually having to. If she's being honest, though, it's more like she used to hate it. She kind of hates it less now.

Maybe having talked about it helped. 

Well, they haven't talked about it properly, yet, even. Not explicitly. But there's a kind of… mutual understanding there.

Veronica isn't likely to change, not with Alice. Alice is still in love with Veronica.

Veronica will likely never fulfill this wish-image Alice has — had — of her, of their relationship. Alice had mourned that loss for a while, privately. But, Alice is still in love with Veronica.

Veronica tries, and Alice sees it. So when she does have to make her coffee and talk some sense into her (usually with shouting and pleading and eventually kissing), when she does find the occasional skirt or bit of lingerie she _knows_ is new… it doesn't sting quite so much. Alice is still in love with Veronica.

It helps, she's found, to think of Veronica almost like a natural phenomenon. Like a thunderstorm, like a hurricane, beautiful and terrible, and Alice has learned how to live in her ever-present shadow: evacuating when she needs to, weathering it out where she can, rebuilding what's inevitably torn down and damaged. Veronica isn't quite a natural disaster, and she tries to help rebuild, but it's always haphazard and intense and inevitably finite. It's all certainly not healthy. But Alice is still in love with Veronica.

It's not all bad. There are times, when Veronica is so loving, so vulnerable, so passionate (so tearful, sometimes), that Alice _knows_ how much she cares, how much she _wants_ , just her, all for Alice. Those moments, they feel like flying (like being swept up in a tornado, the beautiful calm in the eye of the storm, but they steal her breath and make her melt nonetheless). It's a roller coaster all in a simple swipe of Veronica's tongue across her lips, and, honestly, she's not quite sure how to live without it anymore.

It's these moments that remind her why she turned to music because mere words could never be enough for _that_.

Undeniably, Veronica is broken, and breaking. She's addicted to so many things and sometimes barely has any handle on _herself_ , whether she's trying or not. But, here's the kicker: Alice thinks _she_ might be addicted to Veronica.

Because the simple fact is, that life without Veronica would be unbearable. Quiet, stagnant, a snail retreating into its shell over and over again, until it just stays there. Until inspiration trickles dry, until emotion remains categorically gray, until the people around her fall away one by one from shy, risk-averse, quiet Alice, or until she's so thoroughly taken advantage of she no longer feels like herself anymore.

Yes, Veronica takes advantage, but it's in a different way, one Alice has a hard time explaining. It's taking advantage without wanting to, it's taking advantage while taking all bullets, it's taking advantage not because it's easy, but because she doesn't know how _not_ to, it's taking advantage while doing her damn best to offer something in return — even if her best isn't always very good.

Alice loves her for it.

It's so, so fucking dysfunctional, but it's theirs, and Alice honestly never wants to live without it.

(She kind of meant that goddamn marriage proposal, really, even if she never thought she'd get married. That Veronica was "kind of into it" made her heart skip, even weighed down as it was that drive. She'll wait a few years, and ask again, some way that's not contrived for any cameras.

The public will go wild, she knows, with glee for them both, the drama, the wedding fever, with envy for Veronica and no small amount of pity for Alice she'll do her best to squash.)

God, she's so glad Veronica stumbled — staggered — into her life: draped herself over Alice's shoulder and murmured " _wanna get out of here_?" in her ear, this complete stranger whose sultry voice had Alice going weak in the knees and tucking her in on Alice's couch at the end of the night.

It makes her both deeply sorrowful and deeply angry that, the morning after, Veronica looked surprised to be _clothed_ , awkward and bleary-eyed and carefully grateful, with an intense, intrgued, pleading gaze Alice suspects was the beginning of Veronica falling for her: recognizing Alice might actually be someone safe.

Veronica has never been particularly good at making Alice feel safe, not emotionally, not consistently. But Alice has always tried to create safety for herself, and maybe she can offer enough for the both of them. 

She thinks, maybe, that look was the beginning of her falling for Veronica, too.

Alice had always wanted a dog. Wryly, she thinks in some ways this isn't dissimilar. She's exactly the type, she admits to herself, to take in a stray that's never quite trained but will stay by her side forever if she lets her.

Maybe there's more safety in that than she thought. 

They are so, so dysfunctional, but somehow they work. Veronica is addicted to alcohol, to shoplifting, to adrenaline and self-destruction, and, bizarrely, Alice. Alice is addicted to Veronica, and somewhere in that mix there's care, too, and passion, and affection, a whole heaping of it.

Therapist or no therapist, Alice can definitely live — love — with that.


End file.
